Allison Plean: The Steamboat blues |

Allison Plean: The Steamboat blues

Allison Plean

Allison Plean

It was 8:14 a.m. Monday when I was pulling out of my parallel parking spot in front of the post office.

I thought I could clear that flat bed truck parked in front of me. I was wrong.

Then came the sound of metal crunching that I knew would haunt me for weeks to come.

I ripped off the passenger door handle (in multiple pieces) and twisted the metal frames between both doors on the right side of my Jeep.

Yeah. My interior light is permanently on because my car thinks the door is open, and I’ve got a nice winter breeze circulating through the cockpit.

Relief only hit when I realized that I had a column topic for this week.

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But things could always be worse, right? I could have lost my cell phone or my iPod.

The accident was actually my iPod’s fault.

If Apple didn’t provide such bad quality headphones with those ear pads that always fall off, then it wouldn’t have been so easy for my dog to rip them out of my ears and smash them on the pavement. This prompted me to resort to eBay for a replacement. And maybe I shouldn’t have ordered them from halfway around the world, because if they got here faster, I wouldn’t have felt compelled to stalk my PO box for three weeks and therefore total my car.

It all makes perfect sense.

I knew when I bought my pod that it was a marketing scam. Everything is sold separately. Apparently even cars.

Someone, please sympathize with me. Lord knows my car insurance company won’t. But I’m not alone in my bad luck this week.

My good friend found out her house needs about $30,000 worth of work done to it to make it safe to live in. And my co-worker was snowboarding on his sixth day of the season when some random person ran into him and broke his leg. My other poor co-worker now is suffering from sympathy pains from listening to us fester.

Even my dog broke his nail. (And my desk neighbor just took the last piece of gum.)

Maybe the accident was more of an instant karma example.

At approximately 8:12 a.m. I went through a four-way stop intersection and almost hit a car that I didn’t see through the one little square of ice I was too lazy to scrape off my car.

Lesson learned. (For at least a few weeks.)

The nice man at Custom Color said it would cost several thousands to repair my car. His direct quote is that there is an “ungodly amount of damage.”

Does that mean it’s beyond the help of prayers?

My new year’s resolution should be to become a better driver.

I know we all have our bad “country song days,” but it’s extra hard times when it happens before noon.

Reporter Alexis DeLaCruz sent in this e-mail the same morning as my “fender bender.”

“I am having a really bad day. I lost my debit card (had to cancel that), lost my Christmas list and my parents are like breathing down my neck. I hurt my neck snowboarding. I broke a nail, slipped on some snow … and it’s only 11:33.”

I still don’t have my headphones. But maybe I’ll find them under the Christmas tree I don’t have while I’m working on Christmas Day.